Activist-Artist Looks for Life’s True Colors

Enrico Soekarno plans to return to the use of color in his next exhibition. (Photo: Titania Veda)

After witnessing the 1991 Santa Cruz cemetery massacre in East Timor, in which 271 unarmed civilians were killed by Indonesian troops, artist Enrico Soekarno renounced the use of color in his work, saying he would only return to it once Suharto was dead.

“Now people keep reminding me — ‘So, Suharto’s dead now, so when are we gonna see the color stuff?’ ” he said with a laugh. He promised that his next exhibition will once again be filled with color.

It is mid-morning during school holidays. Normally at this hour of the day, he might be painstakingly applying a fine felt-tip pen to acid-free paper for one of his black-and-white ink drawings, but today Enrico is trying to usher his toddlers, Kenya and Dante, off to a nearby playground. In his spacious living room, monochromatic photographs taken by architect Yori Antar and director-photographer Jay Subyakto line the walls between ethnic textiles and wood carvings. In front stand child-sized basketball hoops, around which can be heard the patter of the children’s feet and those of a lumbering rottweiller-German Shepherd mix named Pablo.

When he was younger, Enrico said, he would work intensely until a piece of art was completed, often for three or four days. Since he started a family, the 43-year-old artist has had to learn to allocate his time.

“I’m still learning. I’d do this part. Tsrrrrttt!” he said, as he mimed drawing rapidly in the air. “Then leave it and play with the kids first. It’s sort of working.”

The artist is best known for his meticulously detailed ink drawings, though he works in many media. He is often moved by social injustice, and it shows in his art, through which he has commented on issues including censorship, the preservation of indigenous cultures and injustices in East Timor and Aceh.

Enrico’s attention recently shifted after a 2003 trip to Tibet, during which he witnessed the suffering of the native people under Chinese oppression. Since then, the plight of Tibetans has been featured prominently in his pieces, resulting in both solo and group exhibitions on Tibet. His interest also spawned a book, “Tibet on the Brain,” comprised of essays and photographs by Yori Antar, Raudia Kepper, Jay Subyakto, Krish Suharnoko, Ella Ubaidi and Enrico himself.

His last exhibition was as part of a group show on Tibet called “Heaven in Exile” at the Antara Foto Gallery in March. The show was part of a Tibetan exhibition and film festival organized by Roof of the World, a foundation that promotes the Tibetan cause through art and culture. Enrico started the foundation with friends in 2006, and serves as its chairman.

“The group doesn’t want to be too political,” Enrico said. But when the massacre of more than 500 Tibetans occurred in Lhasa in March 2008, Enrico organized a demonstration and headed straight for the Chinese embassy in Jakarta.

“It pissed off the Chinese a little bit,” he said. “But what I was most proud of was the fact that there were Chinese Indonesians supporting me. And we got that out on TV, on the Internet, on YouTube. It came out to the world that not all Chinese are bad. And that’s what I want to actually put forward. That these are Chinese people who are against what the Chinese government does and that’s very important.”

Creating awareness and breaking cultural barriers and prejudices is a recurrent theme in Enrico’s art. Addressing tension between East Timorese and Indonesians, he held an exhibition of his drawings of the region.

“A lot of Timorese who were stuck in Jakarta came [to my exhibition] and were moved. To me, I inspired them to obtain a certain sense of home and there’s also the fact that an Indonesian guy is doing this, for them.”

By creating social commentaries in his canvases, Enrico’s art became a sort of visual voice for the fallen, the wronged and the repressed.

“A lot of artists are technically good but there’s no feeling behind it or there’s no strong motivation behind the work,” said Enrico, who aspires to be like controversial artist-activist Semsar Siahaan, who is known as the “anti-Suharto artist.”

He points to an artwork titled “Anno Domini,” a personal favorite that he drew for a 1998 exhibition. A plain skull sporting an army beret fills the frame. Squeezed into the remaining space are a row of ghostly figures in Muslim attire, while in a corner, the generals Prabowo and Wiranto are praying. The title is a play on words that combines a Latin phrase meaning “Year of Our Lord,” the abbreviation for the Indonesian Army and Aceh’s martial law status known as DOM.

“You can see it’s the army praying in the Islamic way and this is the most Islamic place, and there are all these dead bodies,” he said. “The point of art is to make people feel something. And if that doesn’t work that means the artist failed or the audience is already desensitized towards suffering in the world.

“If I’m only affected by the beauty of the place, then I’m intense about the beauty. But if I happen to encounter suffering, then I have to show how I feel about the suffering. It’s just my duty to tell the truth.”

Enrico learned to mine truth from nature, first by drawing landscapes and then venturing into portraits.

“It’s harder to get to the soul of a person, to get the truth out of a person. But once you can, portraits are amazing!” he said.

“You actually can tell a lot of stories, even devoid of background. That’s why I did a lot of portraits from Tibet with no background.” Enrico is planning a triptych portrait of former President Sukarno, Marijan Kartosuwiryo and Semaun — three of the nation’s most powerful and controversial men — for his next project.

“All three were students of HOS [Haji Omar Said] Cokroaminoto,” he said, referring to the leader of Islamic political organization Sanekat Islam. “They went to the same school. But one became the archnationalist, another a archfundamentalist of Islam and the other, an archcommunist and first leader of the PKI [Indonesian Communist Party]. They were all Javanese. I want to play on that,” he said. Under the title of a King Crimson album, “Three of a Perfect Pair,” the series of triptychs would be a return to color and topics closer to home. “My recent works have been about Tibet. But people tend to forget that I’ve also done a lot of work on indigenous cultures,” he said.

“I want Indonesia the way it used to be, with Bhinneka Tunggal Ika [Unity in Diversity] and gotong royong [a concept of people helping each other],” Enrico said. He attributes his patriotic sentiments to sharing the late president Sukarno’s name and birthdate of June 6.

Enrico is a father of two, an artist, a Tibetan activist and a nationalist, but he also rejects categories.

“Culture-wise, I’m not boxed in. Religion-wise, I’m not boxed in. So I shouldn’t be boxed in for my work. It can still change. I’m still developing,” he said. “Don’t label anything. Don’t ever label anything for anything. Not even for art.”

Roof of the World (Yayasan Atap Dunia)
Contact:
Enrico Soekarno
Tel. 021 766 9337
mandala@rad.net.id

Making His Mark Globally

Oscar Lawalata (Photo: Titania Veda)

“I knew I was a designer because I can create innovative designs and I believe a designer has to be able to do that,” says Oscar Lawalata.

Wearing one of his own creations, a kimono-style navy jacket and black capris, his fawn-like legs crossed elegantly at the ankles and long fingers daintily placed on his lap, the noted Indonesian designer is as refined as the gray walls around him. Sitting in his strikingly spartan South Jakarta boutique, livened only by the racks holding vivid woven jackets, tops and sarongs, Lawalata is still basking in the glory of garnering the prestigious British Council’s International Young Fashion Entrepreneur 2009 award in London in February.

The judges commended Lawalata for his project, “Weaving the Future,” praising his “striking level of aesthetic and impressive understanding of local context and the inherent value of heritage.” The 32-year-old designer, as renowned for his lustrous long hair and luminous skin as he is for his development and promotion of traditional fabrics, talked of the path that led him to London and international recognition.

“I see the IYFE award as the first step,” he said. “London is a place that’s hard to break into. I don’t think of myself as the winner but of how I can develop this and contribute to the international market,” he added, referring to the financial prize he received to spend on a collaborative project between Indonesia and the UK for London Fashion Week.

With his three fashion lines, Oscar Lawalata Culture, Oscar Lawalata Couture and Oscar Lawalata for Uniforms, the designer caters to the various needs of the Indonesian market. His Culture line leans toward the traditional, while wedding gowns and cocktail dresses fall under the more lavish Couture line. Through his many years in the fashion business, Lawalata understands the important role of corporations and created his uniform line to meet the needs of Merpati airlines and hotels including Hotel Indonesia Kempinski, JW Marriot and Ritz Carlton.

Lining the racks of his boutique are many-hued clothes from his Culture line, such as silk kebaya and traditional South Sulawesi bodo tops.

He classifies himself as contemporary traditional because his basic foundation incorporates traditional costumes and textiles and develops them into fashion items that become more wearable, thus ensuring the longevity of the fabrics and their local heritage. “A tad conservative with a hint of the deconstructive,” he said of his design philosophy.

During his studies at Esmod fashion school in the ’90s, Lawalata said his fascination with the golden era of European fashion led him to wonder what Indonesia’s own golden age was like.

It is his belief that each country has a strong culture in its own right, including Indonesia, a nation where influences from all corners of the globe have been assimilated to give birth to a rich and diverse culture. “But I think that’s what isn’t seen,” he said. “People are too riveted by Europe and how to become like Europe.”

The strength of the West, Lawalata said, lies in its technology, management, conviction, vision and mission. The East holds the cultural identity of Indonesians. A blend of both is the perfect compromise to develop new fashion, according to the young designer, whose Western influences are evident in his exploration of patterns, cutting and sophistication of a particular concept.

“I’m not closing myself off from Western fashion,” Lawalata said, “but I feel, as an Indonesian, I was left with an inheritance, with the treasure that is the skill of the weavers, their techniques and the diversity of our motifs and culture.”

A steadfast advocate of traditional textiles, Lawalata continually strives to bring them to the international fashion market. But like many designers working with local fabrics, there are hurdles to overcome, one of which is the access to information on the textiles themselves.

“It is because local textiles weren’t developed with a clear structure but more based on the survival of the artisans themselves. And these artists are based in their own areas with no one trying to understand what they’re doing and developing these textiles further. In the end, the designers have to go out to the field.

“Government involvement is important to advance these cloths and to link them with education, and the education method. It is a long process if we want to make information easier to obtain. I would love to make a project where I can provide my knowledge to the younger generation,” Lawalata said.

“You can see how much we know about Indonesia and how Indonesian we are by what we wear. And that comes out of our own style. There are some people who still wear cloth with a kebaya, some mix them with blazers, with shawls or jeans or sportswear. There are lots of options. We can’t talk about right or wrong. Fashion has no rules. We speak from the heart.”

Behind his poised demeanor and charming smile, Lawalata believes in originality. “I feel this is where designers go wrong. They tend to follow the current. I make my own path,” he said.

“The public is unimaginative,” he added. “They tend to buy whatever is in front of them. But once they see something new, then they realize they want some variety.”

Variety for the younger generation of his fans may soon come in the form of a cost-friendly cotton line he plans to launch in the near future. As one of his goals is to reach out to the community, a project involving traditional cloth is also in the works. “For the future, we’re planning to see how we, Oscar Culture, can create a community in developing Indonesian culture with other communities, creating a synergy.”

What Lawalata brings to the table as a young designer is less his innovative design or his entrepreneurship, but his sense of duty as a designer.

“Responsibility,” he said, “is important because we’re not artists who just want to put out one show, but we should think of how these creations can be accepted by the public and become pioneers. That’s what’s important. The word ‘in’ for me means something that is still in vogue in 10 years’ time or in 20 years’ time. To do that we need to be responsible for bringing these clothes into the future.”

Why We Love Jakarta

Published Jakarta Globe, 19 June  2009

Vanessa Hendriadi

On Monday, Jakarta celebrates its 482nd anniversary. For centuries the capital has been a vibrant cultural melting pot, but Jakartans still manage to find peace amid the chaos and reasons to love the modern metropolis. Here eight well-known creative figures share their thoughts on the city they call home.

Dominique Diyose
Age: 20
Occupation: fashion model

Jakarta is…

A real glamorous and busy city. It’s never dead. Almost every second we are out, whatever time of the day, there will be something going on.

What does Jakarta have over other cities?

I like the feel of Jakarta at night. There’s a lot of mystery. Maybe it’s because Jakarta has lights that never die. We can be lost in reverie while we drive at night. It’s something I enjoy.What’s the fashion scene like here?

There are lots of good and skillful photographers, great design ideas and the rest. We are only missing support from the economic angle. Fashion is still not seen as a valid profession yet here. It is a pity because Indonesia, including Jakarta, has a lot to offer with its beautiful and valuable culture.

What is your best memory of Jakarta?

The bajaj. Just try listening to the sound. Trek trek trek trek. It is the best way to get to know Jakarta. It has everything, pollution, traffic, all rolled into one. The bajaj shouldn’t disappear. It would be a pity. It is a characteristic of the city.

Yori Antar
Age: 47
Occupation: architect

Where are you from?

I was born in Jakarta and can still recall my first home, which was in Tulodong Bawah, in the middle of a Betawi village where left and right there were cassava plants. And now it’s a business district.

Jakarta is…

A very challenging city because it develops without any order and without planning. But that is the consequence of it being a capital city. But Jakarta isn’t boring, even though a lot needs to be improved upon. Jakarta is actually a large village, and we shouldn’t be afraid of our identity. We don’t have to be like other cities in the world. We are heterogeneous and dynamic, and we need to find our own uniqueness. There are lots of places in our city that can be made more interesting for people. We are lacking a lot of public spaces, galleries, art and culture spaces. We don’t value heritage enough. If we can fix that, Jakarta can be a cultural city.

What is the loveliest architecture in town?

The architecture from the Sukarno era is beautiful, such as in Gelora Senayan, Monas and Istiqlal Mosque. After Sukarno, there was a move to build skyscrapers. There are lots of pretty buildings but they don’t contribute anything positive to the city because there are no public spaces and everything is fenced in. They are, in a sense, egotistical buildings.

How can a person get to know Jakarta?

There are lots of layers in this society. If you want to know Jakarta, you can go to the remote areas around town, in the shantytowns. I am also a photographer, and subjects can be found behind the skyscrapers and used to create romantic images.

How many times have you thought of leaving Jakarta?

I have never thought of it because the city is challenging and I know it from every angle. I accept it with all its positives and negatives. It’s better to stay and help humanize and further develop the city.

Zen Hae
Age: 39
Occupation: poet, writer

Jakarta is…

A city that is very modern and also crowded. It is chaotic. A city we can get lost in. Yet, Jakarta belongs to me, and others who live here. Good or bad, it comes back to us. Like it or not, we live here. For those who don’t have many choices, they have to live and survive, to find food and achieve their dreams here. So Jakarta has become everything for us.

Where in Jakarta do you find inspiration?

I am sixth generation Chinese Betawi. One of my ancestor’s married a Betawi woman and we converted to Islam. It made me want to find my traditional roots. I enjoy visiting the Pecinan area in Glodok because that was where the Peranakan Chinese developed. I feel as if I have stepped back into the past of the Chinese who helped build Jakarta. There are a lot of Chinese elements that have influenced my work as well. There is a lot of traditional Betawi culture that has been influenced by the Chinese, such as gambang kromong and the cokek dance. Whether it be music, clothing or language, [the Chinese] have had an influence on the Betawi culture that lasts till today. And that has a positive influence on me because I can write about the assimilation process of the Peranakan Chinese and the Betawi.

Is there much difference in Jakarta now than before?

I grew up in the ’70s, when Jakarta was only just developing. A lot of trees are now missing. Over the last 10 years, housing estates, apartments and roads have wiped out all the farming fields and vegetable gardens. That’s a risk that has to be borne by a city where the development hasn’t been well structured and the contamination to the environment hasn’t been managed, year after year.

Is there a positive side to development?

As lousy as Jakarta is, it’s a city that holds a lot of inspiration for me as a writer. I can write about Jakarta from any angle, about life in Jakarta. And that is very important for a writer like me. There are lots of aspects that can be written of about Jakarta, whether it be in the villages, the outskirts or the city itself. That provides positive value for me.

Jason Gunawan
Age: 28
Occupation: gallery owner and co-owner of Potato Head bistro bar

Jakarta is…

A jungle. You can have a lot of fun yet, but the same time be watchful how you present yourself in public as the sensitivity of the people is fragile. People here look easy-going and kicked-back but they still think traditionally. It took me a good three or four years to really settle in [after returning from Australia]. But once you do, it has a lot of opportunities for youths. If you have an entrepreneurial spirit, it’s good for you.

How does Jakarta beat other cities?

The city is my bread and butter. This is where my ancestors came and lived. I’m Indonesian. I’m privileged to come back and make as much of an opportunity as I can. This is a growing nation.

You opened bistro bars like Casa, Loewy, Canteen (now all sold) and Potato Head — how did you know they were going to be successful?

Jakarta has picked up really quickly. I think Jakarta’s very trendy at the moment. All these new places have just emerged in the past year or so. Casa was actually the pioneer of the cafe bars. Basically, there was nothing like it before. Everything was either a bar or a club.

Best drink in Jakarta?

The coconut daiquiri at Potato Head. We garnish the rim of the martini glass with grated, caramelized coconut.

Best memory of the city?

Dufan [Dunia Fantasi Dufan, a theme park]. It’s such a bizarre wonderland, it’s an icon that people have forgotten. Back in those days, in my youth, entertainment was outdoors. You sweat, you run around.

Deli Makmur
Age: 35
Occupation: Managing Director of Fame 74, a communications agency, and co-owner of Fashion First boutique

Jakarta is…

a city that developed organically. Here, the government isn’t very involved. We grow organically and independently. That’s what’s happening with creative industries.

How is it different from other cities?

Globalization originates from Jakarta. Whether it is entertainment, information, fashion, it all starts from Jakarta. We are the gateway to globalization.

The reason why Jakarta is so developed is because the people here are creative and have good survival skills. Here, even with the limited facilities, we manage to make it work.

What are relationships like in modern Jakarta?

Relationships in Jakarta are quantity over quality. Here you may know a lot of people, but not in depth, which is a consequence of being a city and not having a lot of time to spend with others.

What is unique about the fashion in Jakarta?

It’s very diverse but there’s no thread that is the signature style of Jakartans. Although if we’re discussing the front-liners of fashion, like the socialites and celebrities, there is an issue of uniformity. For instance, when the Hermes bag is in season, everyone will try to possess it. Fashion hasn’t become a tool of self-expression but is a way to be accepted into and belong to a group. Signature style hasn’t blossomed in Jakarta.

Lucky Kuswandi
Age: 28
Occupation: filmmaker

Lucky Kuswandi

Jakarta is…

chaotic with a certain charm to it, because Jakarta is very messy, but there is a certain pace to it that I like. It’s messy but at the same time it is pretty.

What makes Jakarta unique in terms of filmmaking?

The city isn’t settled yet. People create their own rules here, which creates a lot of stories. Jakarta absorbs so much culture from outside but people don’t have an understanding of the culture they’re absorbing.

What do you want to do in Jakarta?

I want to shock the people a bit, to get them out of their comfort zones, to address certain issues they don’t want to talk about or don’t really care about. Issues about identity. Individuality is somewhat discouraged and money plays a big part here. You can bend the law and get away with a lot of things. It is a very materialistic city.

Places to get ideas from?

The bird and fruit market in South Jakarta when it’s closed. It’s so beautiful; you see all these colorful doors. It feels like a moment where the city takes a breather. Jakarta at 3 a.m. on a weeknight is my inspiration. It’s empty and all of a sudden you see the city breathing, just before the whole chaos starts again. Even then it’s not totally quiet and you see people using the streets, who are in their own world.

Davy Linggar
Age: 35
Occupation: photographer and painter

Jakarta is…

congested. Polluted. The more development, the more destruction there is. Before, you could play in the fields, bike from Tebet to Monas or Ancol or Ragunan.

What is your source of inspiration?

It comes from the ugliness. I’m a photographer and painter and am not good at articulating how I feel with words. If I am annoyed it comes out as photographs and paintings. Maybe I’m different. I prefer what others don’t see or what people think is worthless, such as the corner of a staircase where I found a kitten, or a sandal lying around. They mean something to me.

But your work is known for its beauty.

Perhaps art naturally is beautiful. Jakarta isn’t a city that’s ugly. It’s not the city’s fault but the people who ruin it. The people who live here ruin it.

Is there anything good about the city?

Jakarta’s actually nice. Anything is possible here but you have to be smart, and willing to compromise. As bad as it gets, you can still survive here. You can live on Rp 10 billion or Rp 1,000.

Vanessa Hendriadi
Age: 32
Occupation: Director of PT Atlantic Biruraya, a food and beverage company, and certified yoga teacher

Jakarta is…

a city that has a lot of energy and diversity. In one city you can find almost everything you can think of. And it isn’t as it’s portrayed in the news worldwide, as unsafe and dirty. Of course it is, but that’s the same all over. If you want to get ahead and learn, Jakarta is the city to do it in because, as the capital city, there’s a lot of knowledge and variety of businesses to do in Jakarta and the opportunities are still available here.

What does Jakarta have that’s unique?

One of things that impressed me is that apparently the salons here open at 7 a.m. and a lot of women go and get their hair done before going to work. I’ve never heard of this being done anywhere else!

What’s Jakarta like for a businesswoman?

I never felt mistreated by anybody here. I feel comfortable working here because I have lots of friends in the same situation, female entrepreneurs and young women helping their family businesses.

Artist Casts Lasting Memories Of Country’s Past and People

Published Jakarta Globe, 16 June 2009

Standing amid life-size bronze sculptures set directly on the wild grass and broken ceramic tiles outside her East Jakarta studio, Dolorosa Sinaga focuses intensely on the work before her. Fine silver-wire spectacles sit close to her face and tight braids encircle her head. Her hands, shaping a plaintive face into being, are caked with gray clay.

Known to her friends as “Dolo,” the petite sculptress from Sibolga, North Sumatra, is concentrating on an interpretation of the Shroud of Turin, the ancient cloth believed to bear an image of Jesus Christ. It is one of two pieces she plans to include in a group show at Edwin Gallery in Kemang, South Jakarta, in August. The ethereal figure stands tall as a child, its body shrouded in a cloak.

Dolorosa Sinaga says the power of expression in her sculpted figures lies in the movement that is frozen yet still alive in the eyes of the viewers. (Photo: Titania Veda)

Taking a brief break from her work, she opens a small tin can, takes a pinch of tobacco and begins to roll a cigarette. Lighting it, she begins to speak. Often chortling with self-effacement when complimented, the warm and down-to-earth mannerisms of the 56-year-old artist are immediately disarming.

Seating herself at a table cluttered with miniature sculptures in her shaded studio, she pulls a small bronze figure toward her and, running her hands over it, says, “I can close my eyes and create a figure. That is how well I know the human body.”

Dolorosa, who has exhibited professionally since 1987, is best known for her depictions of the female form. She molds and casts effigies that portray women from all walks of life and all ages in a variety of situations — images of mothers, daughters, dancers, queens, freedom fighters and heroines.

“I am not one-sided,” Dolorosa says. “If I am really angry with one person, I still need to be able to smile with others. So in my art, I can be angry but, on the other hand, I can still make a figure that can affect someone with its beauty.”

She points to a fiberglass sculpture entitled “Mother and Child” (2004), of a mother with her head wearily resting on top of a chair, one of her arms dangling, her child standing before her. A friend, Dolorosa says, once told her, “You can almost hear the mother sigh.”

Yet, with the mother holding her child’s hand, Dolorosa managed to convey the maternal affection behind the fatigue.

“Perhaps I simply can’t work with anger,” she says. “Even when my dancer is screaming, she can move within her pain and still remain beautiful.”

It was rage, however, that inspired “Solidaritas” (2000), a bronze sculpture prompted by the 1998 riots and systematic rape of ethnic Chinese women, which led to the eventual resignation of President Suharto later that year.

“Until now, I ask how could that have happened? Many people don’t believe the rapes occurred,” Dolorosa says. “I am certain they did happen and that fact has become a black page in our nation’s history.”

The piece, of seven women cast in black bronze standing in a row, one with her fist in the air, now stands in the International Monetary Fund gallery in Washington, DC, as a reminder of that dark year.

The events of 1998 signaled the beginning of Dolorosa’s use of political elements in her art. She has since distanced herself from metaphoric visuals, and now creates beautiful, albeit direct social commentaries about the injustices faced by Indonesians. These include her harrowing sculptures of the victims of the Lapindo mudflow and a single haunting figure of Wiji Thukul, a poet often critical of the New Order government who disappeared during Suharto’s rule.

Insisting that the 2006 Lapindo disaster, which left 10,000 people displaced, should not be forgotten, Dolorosa created three sculptures of the event. One, “National Monument Lapindo Brantas” (2006), is a seated fiberglass figure of a desolate man, his head hanging down and his feet in a pool of mud. The couple featured in “The Gushing of Mud Will Never Cease” (2008) have faces that appear to merge into the mud that oozes at their feet, almost encasing them. Their mouths are open, as if screaming silently.

“I speak on behalf of how I look at certain issues. I want to convey the suffering of these people to others, like an agent, like a trumpeter,” Dolorosa says.

Each of her works tells a story and contains a message, stemming from her life experiences and deep concern for women’s rights and social issues, and the relationships between men and women.

Having focused on the female body for more than two decades, she began including more male figures in her work only five years ago. (Prior to that her only male sculptures were of Wiji and the Dalai Lama.) As a female artist making statements about the issues faced by modern women, Dolorosa said she considered it only fitting to involve men.

She received reactions of both pleasure and displeasure from her audience at the masculine inclusion. “People say, ‘Wow! Your character is changing,’ ” she says. “I can’t help it! I can’t please everyone.”

If the approval of the public is not foremost on Dolorosa’s mind, public awareness is.

“Women should not be the only ones fighting for our rights. Men need to be invited to be problem-solving partners. If a woman is aware that she can change her circumstances, then the other party needs to be invited to see that change.”

For the articulate and outspoken artist, sculpture was an obvious medium with which to communicate her messages to the general public.

“Rosalind Krauss, an American art critic, was one of the people who helped me understand sculpture,” she says. “She said only sculpture can give me the power of expression because the power of expression lies in the movement that is frozen yet alive in the eyes of the audience.”

Dolarosa spent much of the 1980s studying at some of the world’s finest art institutions, including the Central Saint Martins College of Art & Design in London, after graduating from the Jakarta Institute of the Arts, School of Fine Arts, in 1977.

Her study of the human form began at Saint Martins. Each day consisted of studying a male or female nude, examining their poses. “I studied the anatomy of the body until I wanted to vomit,” she says.

“It was a process of innovation, creativity and frustration. The result was not important. The most important thing was the learning process.

“We had to make sculptures from our understanding of the nude poses, of what was happening inside the body, and then provide our own interpretation on how the form should look.”

Dolorosa starts with wax or clay to make a preliminary model, sometimes adding cloth or plastic as the whim takes her. She either starts with a clay mold before making a positive image in wax, or makes the wax positive directly. The sculpture is then cast in bronze or fiberglass, and a patina applied, resulting in somber metallic colors of chestnut brown, gold leaf and viridian green.

Her hands are her tools, but it is her emotions that speak most clearly in her art and the process of creating it.

She approaches each piece individually, like an actor who embodies a certain character in order to make it come alive. When she sculpted her bronze seated figure of the Dalai Lama, Dolorosa said, she had to smile in order to recreate his tranquil face.

While many artists consider aesthetics most important when creating, exploring forms and colors merely for the visual enjoyment of their audience, that was not the path Dolorosa chose to take.

“I never work for the sake of aesthetics. It comes on its own. That is what makes me different from the others, perhaps.”

Although creating beauty has never been her motivation, it is a constant in her pieces that can capture strength and fragility, power and helplessness, sorrow and love, all at once.

In her emaciated, protracted bodies can be seen the influences of the artists she admires — the elongated forms of Swiss sculptor Alberto Giacometti, the visual metaphors of Belgian surrealist painter Rene Magritte and the later works of subversive French artist Marcel Duchamp.

“If you look at a painting or sculpture, you are dealing with a two-dimensional and three-dimensional subject. With a painting, it is in front of your eyes. It is instant,” she says.

“But if people look at sculptures, they have to read the gestures and the visual language of the human figures they’re looking at, because only then will they be able to read the emotions behind these figures.

“Every sculpture,” Dolorosa says, “needs to move an audience. If they can’t, then you can consider that piece unsuccessful.”

Indicating her studio and its falling shadows of old and new sculptures with a sweep of her hand, she explains that her work requires an investment on the part of the viewer.

“My sculptures are not free. They demand for people to take pause and reflect. If I come here and can no longer stand and find value in my own works, they no longer have meaning.”

Dolorosa Sinaga’s studio
Jl Pondok Gede Raya No 40,
Garuda Kel. P. Ranti
East Jakarta
Tel: +6221 800 9213

Dolorosa Sinaga’s work is sold through Edwin Gallery, although it has no pieces in stock currently, or at her East Jakarta studio. She has a solo exhibition planned at Kendra Gallery in Bali from Oct. 24 to Nov. 15

Epic Fight to Save ‘La Galigo’

Published Jakarta Globe, 12 June 2009

Since the 1800s, literary scholars have attempted to preserve “La Galigo” — a piece of Indonesian literature written in the dying language of the Buginese of South Sulawesi, and which experts call the longest ethnic document in the world, exceeding even the Hindu epic “Mahabharata.”

Major threats to “La Galigo” include the tropical climate, which causes documents to deteriorate rapidly, and the loss of people who comprehend the language and script used to record the epic.

Roger Tol, an expert on Bugis literature and director at the Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies in Jakarta (KITLV), gave a talk in May on the epic.

“ ‘La Galigo’ is basically an origin story, the myth of origin. It’s perceived by the Bugis as containing moral lessons on how they should conduct their lives,” Tol said.

The corpus tells the history of the world from the gods through their descendants, spanning many generations and focusing on Sawerigading, crown prince of the Luwuq Kingdom, which is seen as the cradle of Bugis culture.

Roger Tol talking about “La Galigo.”

Written circa 14th century and thus predating the 17th century arrival of Islam to Sulawesi, the collected work is estimated to total 6,000 folio pages, containing 300,000 lines of verse. It was written in an archaic form of the Buginese language, which is now only used in traditional wedding ceremonies.

“It is a dead language, an old language seldom used that is based on Sanskrit and our old language,” said Muhammad Salim, a native Bugis and “La Galigo” translator.

“The common folk, the old people who preserved it, are almost all dead. Among the young, there are none who can speak it.”

Originating from oral tradition, “La Galigo” was handwritten, using 24 characters that resemble hieroglyphics, Tol said. He attributed the disappearance of the written language to the rise of printing, as the indigenous script would have been difficult to reproduce.

The lion’s share of the known manuscripts are in the University of Leiden, in the Netherlands, while fragments of others are scattered throughout libraries around Europe. A collection of about 600 pages is also part of the library of the Cultural Foundation of South and Southeast Celebes, in Makassar.

The introduction of “La Galigo” to the outside world began with John Leyden, a Scottish poet and linguist, who in 1808 first documented the epic as a Bugis work. In 1939, Dutch philologist R.A. Kern went further and undertook the arduous task of summarizing the epic episode-by-episode, resulting in a 1,400-page catalog titled “Episodes of the Buginese Epic I La Galigo”.

In 1987, a project to translate “La Galigo” into Bahasa Indonesia was launched and funded by KITLV in collaboration with the Prince Claus Fund. Twelve volumes of the epic were translated into Indonesian by Salim, who was then head of the Department of Culture in the Sidrap district of South Sulawesi. However, due to setbacks in funding, only two of the 12 volumes were published. The 12 volumes only constitute one-third of the complete epic. “Galigo I,” the first volume, was printed in 1995 and “Galigo II” followed five years later.

“This means the Bugis people can understand ‘La Galigo’ line by line,” Tol said. “Not only as summaries or overviews, but word by word, to be able to enjoy its cadence and poetic rhythm.”

He hopes the remaining 10 volumes will be published with funding from the Indonesian Ministry of Culture and Tourism. “There are plans by the ministry to fund the project, but so far I have not seen any implementation.”

Though there is an overall coherence and unity throughout the epic, Tol said, for it to have been written by a single author verges on the impossible.

“With oral tradition, we may think it’s memorizing but it’s actually composition on the spot. Storytellers may be able to memorize, but not 6,000 pages. They’ll memorize the storyline, the protagonist, know the language, special vocabulary, and use parallelism and repetitions.”

Since 2004, with Tol as an adviser, acclaimed New York theater director Robert Wilson has taken a theater production, “I La Galigo,” to an international audience, with performances in Jakarta, Singapore, Europe, America, Australia and Taiwan.

Gentille “Illenk” Andilolo has played the title character, I La Galigo, in all performances. “I am happy that those who did not know about this part of Bugis culture before, know of it now,” said Illenk, who is himself of Bugis descent. “The sad part is why didn’t our own people think of it? ‘La Galigo’ was thought to be something of no value, the Bugis didn’t even glance at it. Now, they realize its value.”

“La Galigo” was nominated for the Unesco Memory of the World Register by Tol and Mukhlis Paeni, a historical expert on South Sulawesi and the chairman of the Indonesian Historical Society, in 2008, and they will resubmit an updated application in March 2010. The applications are on behalf of the MOW Indonesia committee.

“When it was first nominated, the documentation wasn’t complete since ‘La Galigo’ is scattered around the globe,” said Endang Rusmiyati, head of the scientific information division for the Indonesian Institute of Sciences and an MOW member.

“It will be easier, once it is a Memory of the World, to find funding for the preservation of ‘La Galigo,’ ” she said.

In 2002, the La Galigo Study Center was established at Hasanuddin University in Makassar by Nurhayati Rahman, head of the Social Sciences and Humanities Division at the university’s Center for Research and who helped edit “Galigo II.”

“I established the study center because there were none in the universities,” she said. “There were no publications or library and documentation departments about the culture of South Sulawesi.

“The revitalization of ‘La Galigo’ is a large part of the center. We advocate and explain that this culture is dying because of the Internet and globalization. If we don’t study this, it will be a risky thing because our identity will be in jeopardy. Thankfully, our students have shown an interest and are inspired.

“We are returning the heritage of ‘La Galigo’ to the lap of its owners.”

Making The Wayang Speak­­ — in English!

Published Jakarta Globe, 6 June 2009

It may still enjoy popularity throughout Java and Bali, and it was added to Unesco’s representative list of intangible cultural heritage in November 2003, but traditional wayang kulit is often a difficult art form for foreign audiences to appreciate.

After all, the plots of many shadow puppet plays are based on ancient Hindu epics, they use local dialects, are often performed in people’s living rooms and, depending on the story being related, performances can last from dusk to dawn.

But shadow puppet plays don’t have to be inaccessible. American expatriate Kathryn “Kitsie” Emerson and master puppeteer Purbo Asmoro have formed a partnership to bring wayang to English speakers, offering shadow puppet shows in people’s homes with a direct translation by Emerson. Emerson has lived in Indonesia for 18 years and has been married to well-respected Javanese wayang drummer Wakidi Dwidjomarto for six years, so has a firm grasp on both Indonesian and Western culture.

Kitsie Emerson typing simultaneous translations in English.

Emerson first came up with the idea after she and her husband held wayang performances in their home and she found herself whispering explanations to her friends who did not understand the language. “I thought instead of whispering, why don’t I just type whatever I was whispering to them,” she said.

Her first attempt at simultaneous translation of one of Purbo’s performances came in 2006 at the Singapore Art Museum. “It was scary,” she said. The two have since taken their joint performances to the United States, London and Paris.

“Maybe by working together like this, we’re helping to make wayang more international, helping to give it a bigger name, an acknowledgment,” Emerson said.

On a balmy night in May, a group of Jakarta-based expatriates had the opportunity to experience one of Emerson and Purbo’s performances at the home of Naheed Islam, a Bangladeshi-American.

“In Java,” Emerson told the crowd of 30 to introduce the performance, “wayang is entertainment, better than television.”

She went on to explain the art form’s origins, social value and oral traditions.

From the days the sultanates reigned, wayang kulit performances in Javanese homes have been part of Indonesian tradition. To the ebb and flow of a gamelan orchestra accompaniment, the dhalang (puppet master) manipulates his intricately carved leather puppets of epic characters, making their shadows frolic and fight on the screen as he tells the story, altering his tone for each character.

The explanations of the stories told were appreciated by audience members such as Tricia Hoban, from Washington, DC, who has a fondness for the puppets. Having previously lived in India, Hoban said she found the stories to be a continuation of the Mahabarata and Ramayana legends. “I want to find out the basics of wayang, how it works and what it looks like,” she said.

Following the lecture and a light dinner, the living room lights dimmed and the gamelan musicians, including Emerson’s husband, sat before their instruments wearing white tunics over brown batik sarongs. A cloth screen separated the living room, where Emerson, the gamelan ensemble and Purbo, with his backlit puppet characters sat, from the garden outside.

The action began, the shadows of the puppets clear to the watchers in the garden as Purbo manipulated them to the accompaniment of his voice, sound effects and the gamelan orchestra. Those wishing to read Emerson’s simultaneous translation remained inside, where she typed on her laptop and the words were projected onto a living room wall. Some walked between the two areas, wine glasses in hand, viewing the show from both perspectives.

The story of the evening was of Dewa Ruci, taken from the Hindu epic Mahabharata. It is a coming-of-age tale woven around the second of the Pandava brothers, Bhima, who has decided he is in dire need of spiritual development.

In preparation for the performance, Emerson listened to the five recordings she has of the Dewa Ruci narrative. “I studied them all really hard and make sure I understood the plot. But still, [Purbo] doesn’t do anything the same ever,” she said. “All is mostly improvised, not memorized.”

It is obvious that mastering Javanese was only one of many skills Emerson had to learn to become a proficient translator. Each dhalang has his own style and method of interpretation, so she spent three years in Solo consciously looking for one she could work with.

“I wanted to work with a dhalang I could really study,” she said. “If I flitted from one dhalang to another, I wouldn’t understand deeply what their interpretation was or their choice in philosophy.”

When she met Purbo in July 2004, Emerson knew she had found her man. The dhalang is a sixth-generation puppeteer and also a professor of pedhalangan (puppetry) at the Institute of Indonesian Arts (ISI Surakarta). “His performance is meaningful, his movements beautiful and his comments are different,” Emerson said.

Purbo himself said that a dhalang’s duty is to ensure everyone in the audience is entertained and can follow the plot and comments of the wayang.

“If you crack a joke or wax philosophic, it has to be conducted in a way that is understood by both the literature professor and the meatball seller who may be in the audience,” he said. The necessity of a translator such as Emerson to allow speakers of other languages in on those jokes was obvious when Purbo had an ogre tell Bhima he would make a tasty snack.

The comment drew laughter from the gamelan players but the English-speaking audience had a slightly delayed reaction as they waited for Emerson’s translation to be displayed.

Not all found it humorous. Lisa Kramer from Oregon thought that in itself was an interesting cultural contrast. “I didn’t find it funny, but the musicians were laughing,” she said. “It’s interesting to see the cultural differences. It raises questions. Why was that funny to someone [else] and not to me? Through this, you open yourself up to learn more.”

Kramer was impressed by Emerson’s ability to move between the cultures, something Emerson said was not easy.

“Figuring out how to translate things like the jokes are a challenge,” she said. “Culturally, jokes can not be funny. At times it is lost in translation. Sometimes it’s a play on language. And then sometimes there’s so much context and background, so often I just don’t translate.”

Another difficult part of wayang performances for Western audiences can be “the incredibly serious moments and then the clowns come in,” she said. “I think the foreign audiences are shocked by that. Or they all of a sudden think there is something cheaper about what they’re seeing. All of a sudden, they doubt. They say wayang is high-brow art and like vaudeville art at the same time. That is the Javanese ethic. If something gets really serious, they’ve got to bring the clowns out.”

Following the performance, which lasted an hour, audience members expressed their appreciation at gaining new insight into the art form.

“Coming from a different cultural perspective, to have it laid out and have a translation makes a huge difference,” said John Packer, a native of San Francisco.

Kramer agreed. “It is fantastic with the translation,” she said, “because I never understood it before. I can understand a little bit of Bahasa Indonesia, but not when it is in Javanese. It’s tremendous to understand what is being said.

“And it’s an intimate setting to be in someone’s home. It makes it all the more personal and accessible. With the smaller setting and translation, it’s more meaningful for someone who doesn’t understand.”

For more information or to book a wayang performance at your house, email ekathryn@hotmail.com or log on to www.purboasmoro.com